Letters of Love
by Chablis Jameson
Summary: At his fifthteenth birthday party, Harry is given a letter, written 15 years before. I will review all those who review me. Also, looking for a beta


A/N: Ugh. Well, yet another story, written in such a simplistic manner, and of course, I hate it. I am in desperate need of a beta, anyone looking for the job is well come. Not only will they have check for grammatical and spelling errors, but I really need help developing my stories and character. Anyone wanting the job, e-mail me. Anyway, enjoy the story!

****

"You made it." Harry lifted his head up from where he had been bent over, talking to Charlie about flying techniques. At the slight tap on the shoulder, Harry swung his head around, looking at the figure standing in front of him.

"Of course we did." Remus said, patting the large black dog, who's lease he held. "It's not every day you turn sixteen." Harry nodded, as he leaned down giving the dog a fierce hug. nuzzling his face into the dog's neck he whispered softly into it. "Missed you Sirius."

Remus watched Harry fondly for a moment, before clearing his throat, and breaking through with, "I'll go put our present with the others. Happy Birthday Harry."

"Thanks," Harry muttered to the retreating figure. Turning back to the large dog, Harry continued, "You know, Padfoot, I didn't even want this party. Well, I mean, I don't mind it, it's nice to have a birthday party for once, and I'm having fun, but it wasn't even my idea. Mrs. Weasley was the one who insisted."

The dog nodded, then trotted over to where Mrs. Weasley stood talking to Bill, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley looked down in surprise, then slowly reached a hand out and gave the dog a quick pat on the head. Hermione smiled down, muttered a hello, and gently scratched it behind the ears. Bill and Ginny, waved down to it, then turn back to their conversations. The dog turned back to Harry, who shrugged, then moved on to say hello to the remaining Weasleys.

Harry chuckled, then turned to go and mingle with the rest of the guests who were present at his first ever birthday party.

****

"Oh wow, thanks Hagrid!" Harry called down to the other end of the table, looking over the growing pile of wrapping paper in front of him. "This is great!"

"Thought yeh'd like it." Harry looked down at the book he held in his hands, _Amateurs Guide to Advanced Magical Creatures_, and stifled a laugh.

Harry looked at the rest of the table, shifting some of the rubbish around. "Is that the last of them, then?"

Remus cleared his throat, and held out a small, plain envelope, yellowed with age. "Except for this."

Harry reached for the envelope, and held it in his hands, confusion spreading across his face. "You already gave me a present though. Remember, those excellent Quidditch gloves, and the rest?"

Remus nodded, then clarified, "It's not from me. Or, er, _him_ either. It was given to us, to give to you." He looked up and down the large table, feeling the eyes of the Weasleys Hagrid, and Hermione bore into him.

"Oh, all right then." Harry answered, brow furrowed. He turned the envelope over, and slid a finger under the seal, ready to rip it open. Remus held out a hand to stop him.

"Not here." Harry looked down at were the large black dog sat by his feet, staring at him, slightly nodding.

"Oh, okay." Harry replied, unable to wipe the perplexed look from his face. He slowly slipped the letter into the book Hagrid had just given him, then looked at the rest of the table. Everyone stared back at him, the nervous tension building. Eventually Mrs. Weasley stood up, rather hastily.

"Who's ready for a bit of cake? Made it myself just this morning, and I think it turned out rather lovely." As everyone quickly became occupied with cake, Harry glanced back down at the dog, and sighed.

"All right, Padfoot, what ever you want." Harry stood up, and wandered over to the growing crowd, anxious for his slice, just as much as the rest.

****

That night, not long after Ron fell asleep in the bed next to his, Harry stood up, and crept over to where he had set the book earlier. pulling out the blank envelope, Harry moved over to where the moonlight made it easier to see, and started to open the envelope. Pausing, he thought briefly about the birthday he had just had and rapidly felt his heart fill with joy.

Harry sighed. If only every day could be like the one just past.

He opened the envelope the rest of the way, then peered in. Inside laid a single sheet of parchment, yellowed, edges crinkling. Pulling it out fully, Harry see a faint "August 4th, 1980" scrawled across the front of the folded paper. Harry took a deep breath, and slowly unfolded the parchment.

Inside, he quickly scanned his eyes to the bottom, briefly catching sight of the signature. Heart skipping a beat, Harry felt his knees give way, and he sank onto the his cot, and made sure Ron was still fast asleep. Once he was sure, he looked back to the letter, angling it so the moonlight could shine onto the words, and started to read.

__

August 4th, 1980

My Dearest Harry,

As I pen this, looking over at the sleeping forms of you and your father, I can hardly believe that I have a son. A son. And that you are finally here. Though you've only been on this earth a few short days, I already am having the toughest time remembering how I ever got along with out you. My son.

I wish you could have seen your father, the day you were born. As soon as I told him it was time, James began to go into such a hysterical state, I was worried he wouldn't be able to do what was needed. But your father came through, like always. Oh, Harry, I wish you could remember the look on his face the first time he held you, just a few short days ago. James broke into such a smile, I was sure his face would crack. His eyes held such pride and happiness, and I know I saw a few tears of joy leak out, though I assume your father would rather I never told you.

When you receive this, Harry, you'll be sixteen. Though it's ages away, and though I can hardly picture the tiny baby I just held moments ago being sixteen, I know the time will fly by. Just remember, you're never too old to be my baby boy, and you will never be too old for me to love like I do now. I hope your sweet sixteen is the best it can possibly be, and that we did all we could for you. I love, my son.

I'm told that in a few fleeting weeks our slowly growing family will be going into hiding. James tells me it's only a short while, but necessary. He says that really it will be like a vacation, and we should enjoy the break from daily stresses. Harry, I love your father with all my heart, and I would be lost without him, but sometimes, he just doesn't know what the wrong thing to say is.

My only concern is for your safety, but I've been assured that no one will be able to find us. Just in case something were to happen to James and I, Sirius would be your guardian. I know, deep in my heart, Sirius would rather die himself then let you hurt, and I also know he's the best man for the role of your godfather. But I hope it never comes to that, that I'll never have to leave you. If I can help it, I won't. Harry, my son, I love you more than life, and would give up anything to make sure you were safe and unharmed. I hope you know that.

As I watch you in your father's arms, so small and helpless, my heart feels as if it will burst with pride, joy and love. But now, as you are squirming, and your father's eyes are fluttering open, I must end this letter.

Here's to the next sixteen years. May they be filled with love, happiness, and joy. And here's to hoping that when you are sixteen, our lives will be spent just like I picture. Loving, safe, and together.

Love you so much my heart is full,

Your Mother, 

Lily Potter

Harry hastily brushed the tears out of his eyes, and gave a small sigh. Next to him, he felt more than heard, Ron stir.

"Harry? Are you up? What happened?"

"I'm fine Ron, I'm just was thirsty, is all. I'm going back to bed now, though, good-night." Harry listened as Ron rolled back over and quickly resumed his light snoring. Sure that Ron was sleeping, he re-read the last paragraph.

Without meaning it to happen, Harry jumped as next to him he heard the snap of what sounded like a hand-full of quills breaking into two pieces. He threw the letter down, next to him, and laid back, his anger slowly rising.

It wasn't fair! None of it was! Why should his mother, his young mother, who had so looked forward to growing old, and watching her family grow, die?

Across the room, one of Ron's brilliantly orange posters ripped, loudly, and Harry watched as one of the piece fluttered to the floor. Even though he knew he was too old to let his magic get out of his control, the black-haired boy felt odd satisfaction taking his anger out on inanimate objects. Smiling, he watched as his trunk silently burst open, spewing it's contents all around the room, before Harry turned over, his face shoved into the pillow, willing himself to calm down.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
